Where are you, Julia?
by che-guevara
Summary: Spike, at the graveyard, waiting for Julia. His POV. Rate.


                I hate disclaimers, but I thought I should say one thing before you read this story: I KNOW a lot of people will hate this. So if you're the kind of people who likes nice grammatical rules, stylistic regulations, and systematic, conventional, conformist, traditional narration, don't bother reading. 

                "_Once in camp I put a log on top of the fire and it was full of ants. As it commenced to burn, the ants warmed out and went first toward the centre where the fire was; then turned back and ran toward the end. When there were enough on the end they fell off into the fire. Some got out, their bodies burnt and flattened, and went off not knowing where they were going. But most of them went toward the fire and then back toward the end and swarmed on the cool end and finally fell into the fire. I remember thinking at the time that it was the end of the world and splendid chance to be a messiah and lift the log off the fire and throw it where the ants could get off onto the ground. But I did not do anything but throw a tin cup of water on the log, so that I would have the cup empty to put whiskey in before I added water to it. I think the cup of water on the burning log only steamed the ants_"

                                                                                                                - Ernest Hemmingway, _A Farewell to Arms_

                Click, click, click, click, click, click.

                Nothing but sparks. The damn thing won't catch on fire. And they say Zippos are the best. Here's one that just won't light a fucking cigarette.

                The wind blows the snow around. The ground is sparkling, as if littered with a thousand coins. The sky is pitch black, I can't even see the clouds. Under my feet, the grass is wet. Above my head, the leaves are dripping. I'm shaking, I'm completely wet. I'm waiting for someone.

                I hear a car. My right hand goes to my pistol, my eyes shrewdly staring at the black car. It passes by. I relax a little bit.

                She'll come, won't she? She said she'd come. Well, she didn't really say it, but she acted like it. She has to come. She loves me, I love her. She doesn't want to stay with them, she has to come. She's too beautiful to be involved in all of the ugliness, she's too smart to be involved in all of the stupidity. She's too good to be involved in all the cruelty. She's an angel among demons, she has to escape. I'm a demon, too, but I'm a good demon. I'm the demon she likes. I'm the demon who wants to run away. I'm not like them. I'm not like Vicious. I'm not that bad. I'm less of a demon.

                But she's an angel, and she has to escape. She has to run away. She's a diamond in the mud. She has to shine. She can't always hide it. But why isn't she here? She was supposed to be here 3 hours ago. I've been waiting for three hours. What happened? What did they do to her? Did they find out? Oh god, it's all my fault, it's all my fault. I killed her, didn't I??

                Please, please let her come. I won't ask for anything else. I know I've never really been a believer, but just let her come, won't you? Just make sure she's safe. Make sure no one touches her, and I'll be glad to sell my soul to the devil if you can guarantee that. Don't let her be dead. She can't die.            

                But how would they find out? No one would tell them. No one else knows. No one could have told Vicious. No one else knows. 

                Click, click, click, click, click, click. DAMN THIS SHITTY LIGHTER. The cigarettes are all wet. The lighter won't burn. I'm all wet. Now I'm pacing. I can see my footprints in the snow. I've plowed through it. I can see the grass underneath the white, it's so beautiful. I trample it. My shoes are all muddy and wet. Even my damn socks are wet.

                Okay. Calm down. Usually you're very calm. Keep a cool head. No one could have found out. She's not in danger. She's all right. Now, any second, she'll just run out of a car and kiss you warmly, then we'll escape to our dreamland. Then we'll leave this world behind, we'll forget all about it. This will be just a bad memory..

                I pace some more. I see a squirrel looking at me. I try kicking it for no reason whatsoever. This is the first time I've been nervous in my life. This is the first time I'm pacing, the first time I'm worried. She's the only thing that can make me nervous, worried, anxious. Come on, Julia, where the fuck are you. We need to escape, don't you remember?? We need to run away, and live a dream. This is a fucking nightmare. COME ON!!! You're LATE! You're LATE, Julia!!!! But I'll wait. Hell, I'll wait until the end of endless time to escape with you. I'll die before moving from this damn graveyard. I'll wait here forever, even if you don't come. I WON'T MOVE, JULIA! Did you hear that?? I'll be waiting right here for another 3 hours, 3 days, 3 weeks, 3 years!

                I can't take this anymore. THERE! Someone's coming! I can hear heels, she's a woman! She's blonde.

                FUCK! She's some 50 year old with a cheap wig. MOVE! You old geezer! You're not Julia, don't you know, this is OUR graveyard, you can't be here! Go! Go! Run away into the nightmare! You're not Julia. You can't be here.

                Are you dead, Julia? Are you dead yet? Did he find out all about it?? Did you betray me? NO, you didn't. I'm waiting, Julia, I'm waiting. And I'll wait for a long time.

                Fuck. She's not coming. FUCK! I take out my pistol. I shoot a few times at a granite cross on some shithead's graveyard. Take THIS, you bastard, take THIS, and THIS, and THIS.. Because you're not Julia, and Julia isn't here.

                I'll be waiting for you, Julia. Just not here. Not in the graveyard.


End file.
